


They Take Their Shots, but We're Bulletproof (You Know for Me it's Always You)

by 88888888



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - High School, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Girl Gang AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3560060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/88888888/pseuds/88888888
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaery has an arm slung over Sansa’s shoulder, and for once, she can barely feel the bruises that encircle her wrists anymore. All of that feels distant, like it happened to someone else, someone smaller and weaker than the girl who just smuggled ecstasy and Xanax and who knows what else into one of the biggest clubs in the city. Everything that’s happened to her, up to this point feels irrelevant, because this is the most alive Sansa has ever felt in her entire life, with Margaery’s jacket still wrapped around her, and the excited whispers into her ear from the other girls of “We did it! We did it!”, and her whole body buzzing with the adrenaline of what they just did.   <em>Girl Gang AU</em> (Title from I Know Places by Taylor Swift)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. September

**Author's Note:**

> So I've wanted to write a Girl Gang AU for a really long time and I finally got around to it. Just a warning, a large part of this fic focuses on an abusive relationship, so please read with caution if you get triggered by stuff like that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has her first day of school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, this is a Sansa/Margaery fic but when the fic starts, Sansa likes Joffrey (but don't worry she won't for long). This chapter is pretty much her first day of school and how she meets Joffrey and Margaery, and the prologue in the beginning gives you a bit of a hint of what's in store for Sansa. I'm going to try and update this as regularly as I can, and I already have a bunch of ideas for the next chapter. Hope you like it!

_It all happens so fast and hazy Sansa isn’t sure if any of it is real. The echo of the bass she could hear reverberating through her bones even though they were standing outside of the club. The neat little bags of pretty pastel colored pills stuffed into the pockets of the leather jacket Margaery draped over her shoulders with a coy smile, “You’ve gotta look like a Rose if you want this to work, Sans.” The blazing lights inside the club that bounced off of the bodies that gyrated around her. And now they’re out on the street, the ink black night air so cold it’s practically burning her lungs, but she’s grinning so big for the first time in so long she doesn’t mind at all. Because Margaery has an arm slung over Sansa’s shoulder, and she can still feel the music from the club vibrating through her entire body, and for once, she can barely feel the bruises that encircle her wrists anymore. For once, she doesn’t feel the sick, ugly part of herself twisting deep in her stomach, and at the back of her throat, threatening to crawl out and undo her. She doesn’t feel the apprehensiveness that’s followed her around like a shadow ever since_ he _came into her life. All of that feels distant, like it happened to someone else, someone smaller and weaker than the girl who just smuggled ecstasy and Xanax and who knows what else into one of the biggest clubs in the city. Everything that’s happened to her, up to this point feels irrelevant and hazy, because this is the most alive Sansa has ever felt in her entire life, with Margaery’s jacket still wrapped around her, and the excited whispers into her ear from the other girls of “We did it! We did it!”, and her whole body buzzing with the adrenaline of what they just did._

 

Sansa Stark pulls her cream colored knee socks further up on her legs. They were drooping already, and she’s glad for the slight delay it gives her from walking into school. King’s Landing Prep looms before her, almost resembling a castle with its high stone walls and turrets, its red and gold banners waving in the warm September air. Students swarms the doors and each other, screaming about how good they look and how they haven’t seen each other all summer. Sansa slowly pushes through the crowd, trying not to look like the new kid on the first day of school cliche she knows she already is. She walks into the front office, looking nervously at the empty front desk with the wooden plaque reading, A. Martell. Sansa’s twisting her long auburn hair around her finger and trying to stay calm when she hears heels clicking from further inside the office.  
“Sorry, dear I’ll be right there!” a voice rings out from another room, and suddenly Sansa’s met with the most beautiful women she’s ever seen. She’s wearing a crisp white blouse and black blazer, and a tight black pencil skirt that stands out against her golden brown skin. She’s quite short, Sansa towers over her (but then again, at 5’ 10’’, she towers over almost everyone), but makes up for it with her piercing almost black eyes. “How can I help you?” the women (A. Martell?), looks at her quizzically, her glossy black hair swinging forward as she leans towards Sansa. “I’m Sansa Stark. I’m new this year?” Sansa bites her lip, hating how she unintentionally phrases everything as a question. “Oh, of course, I remember reviewing your application. We’re glad to have added you as a member of our community. My name is Arianne Martell, I’m the Dean of Students here at King’s Landing Prep.” Arianne gives her a dazzling smile, and reaches into a desk drawer, flipping through a binder until she pulls out a sheet of paper. “Here’s your schedule. Looks like you have History first with Varys in Room 23.” she hands it to to Sansa, “Class starts in a few minutes so you’d better be on your way. But if you have any questions or just want to chat, my door is always open.” Sansa nods, the schedule in her hand giving her slightly more reassurance that she knows what she’s doing, “Thanks, Ms. Martell.”, and slowly walks out the door.  
Thank God the schedule includes a map or she’d be done for, because the inside of the school seems even bigger than the outside. And the halls are so vast and foreboding, with the room numbers carved into the wood in curly hard-to-read script. They remind Sansa of her Aunt Lysa, who always writes her birthday cards in spidery cursive because “it’s a shame that this generation needs even needs print dumbed down for them”. She scans the map, realizing with dread that Room 23 is on the second floor, and breaks into a worried jog, darting past older students loitering at their lockers. She reaches the classroom with about a minute to spare. Sansa counts to three in her head, and breathes out long calming breaths before slowly opening the door and walking inside.  
The first thing she sees when entering the classroom is the seating chart drawn on the board and sighs in relief. She’d been hoping there would be assigned seating so that she could skip the awkwardness of not knowing anyone to sit with. She scans the chart for her name and sees she’s seated near the middle of the classroom next to someone named Elinor. Sansa walks quickly to her seat, putting her bag down. A few minutes later a group of girls stumble into the classroom, all laughing loudly. One of them, a curvy girl with light brown hair tied up in a messy bun, set her backpack down with a loud thunk on the desk next to Sansa and plops down on the chair. She leans back in her chair, grinning at the girl sitting in the desk behind them, “Fuck Marg we got lucky!” she exclaims, her mouth curving into a smirk, “I heard Varys stalks all of his future students to see who their friends are, and then makes up the seating charts making sure no one is with anyone they actually like, but I guess it’s not true.” The girl behind who Sansa guesses is Elinor rolls her eyes, “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, E. Besides, I doubt any teacher is that creepy…”  
They’re both laughing now, and Elinor looks at the other girl insistently, “No but seriously, did you hear about what happened a few years ago when one girl spread that rumor about his, you know, condition, and then Varys-”  
“And then Varys what?” Elinor is cut off by a large bald man walking into the room, staring at her with an amused look on his face, “I’m sure I’ve heard whatever piece of juicy gossip you were about to say, so I think I’ll start class, is that alright with you, Miss….?” He looks at Elinor questioningly, “Um Elinor, Mr. Varys. I’m sorry.” she sputters out, embarrassed.  
Mr. Varys looks unfazed, “Well, anyway now that Elinor’s done speaking, we can start class. First off, as it’s the new school year, I’d like you to introduce yourself to the people to left and to the right of you.” The class erupts into noise. Elinor turns towards Sansa, and gives her a quick smile, “You’re new this year right? I’m Elinor.”  
“Hi, I’m Sansa. Yeah, I moved over the summer from Winterfell.” Elinor’s eyes widen.  
“Damn that’s far. What’s it like up there, do you guys, like, live in igloos or something?” Sansa rolls her eyes, and Elinor laughs, “Don’t worry I’m totally kidding. Whenever there are new kids, I like asking them the dumbest questions about where they used to live. It helps break the ice, you know?” her eyes light up, “Hey! Ice, Winterfell!” she blurts out and starts snickering. Sansa can’t help it and starts laughing with her, “Oh my god,” she grins at Elinor, “I can’t believe I’m laughing at that, it’s so bad!”  
“Yeah, so bad it’s funny!” Elinor punches her lightly in the arm, giving Sansa a full view of the rose tattoo on the back of her hand before Varys calls out, “Ok, talk with the people on your right!”  
Sansa smiles to herself, feeling a million times more relaxed then she had when first walking into the classroom, and turns to her right. “Hi, I’m Joffrey.” the boy to her right says. “What’s your name?” she looks up at him, and has to remind herself to breathe he’s so attractive. His eyes are a cold blue that reminds her of icebergs and glaciers and swimming pool water and the way he’s staring at her is making her whole body weak. She clenches her fists under the table, willing herself to stay cool. “My name’s Sansa.” she gives him a shy smile. “Sansa, that’s pretty.” He smiles back at her, running a hand through his cropped, blond hair. Then he sits up and looks at her more seriously, “Wait, Sansa Stark?”. How does he know who she is? Sansa nods slowly, surprised and confused. “You and your family just moved here from Winterfell so your dad could work with mine. I’m Joffrey Baratheon.”  
Sansa blinks at him in surprise. Joffrey’s her dad’s best friend’s son? Her mom has mentioned Robert having a few kids that she’d supposedly met when she was younger, but she doesn’t remember anyone this gorgeous. She looks at him more closely, “Well, I guess that means technically, we already know each other.” Joffrey laughs, “Yeah, I mean if we played in the sandbox together a billion years ago, then you know me better than anyone in this classroom. We’re practically soulmates.” She grins at him, trying to control the blush that’s sure to be spreading to her cheeks (one of the biggest downfalls to having red hair is that it makes her blush look ten times as strong as anyone elses’).  
Varys clears his throat, and the class quiets down. “Now that all of you are well acquainted, I’m going to see what you know. This semester, we’re going to study Aegon Targaryen and his accomplishments, so can you tell me which kingdom was the only one one to resist Aegon’s conquerings and remain independent, for some time at least?” Joffrey sits up taller in his chair, a confident smirk on his face. He glances at Sansa before turning toward Varys, “That’s obvious. It was the Iron Islands.” he says loudly, daring anyone to disagree with him. He’s so confident in himself, Sansa can barely speak in class without feeling her hands tremble, and it makes her like him more. She hears a loud snicker from the seat behind her, “You’re so full of shit Joffrey,” the girl sitting behind Sansa who’d been talking to Elinor at the beginning of class rolls her eyes Her lips, shiny with rose pink gloss curve into a smirk. “I don’t love your use of language,” Varys cuts in, “but, Miss Tyrell will you kindly explain Mr. Baratheon’s mistake to him?” the girls smirk widens,  
“Oh, I’d love to,” She scoots forward in her chair, looking straight at Joffrey, whose self-assured grin has completely vanished. “So, Joffrey, if you were actually as smart as you think you are, you’d know that the only kingdom to remain free was, in fact Dorne.”  
Joffrey glares at her, muttering, “Shut up Margaery. Fucking know-it-all dyke.” Margaery rests her chin in her hands, and Sansa sees the same rose tattoo that’s on Elinor’s hand, “What’s that, Joffrey?” Margaery leans forward, her voice lowering into a fake stage whisper, “Still butthurt over the fact that I wouldn’t go out with you, and that any girl in this school would choose me over you?”  
Joffrey’s face turns bright red, his eyes shooting daggers at Margaery, he opens his mouth but before he can say anything Varys strides over to them, smacking his hand on the desk loudly. “Mr. Baratheon and Miss Tyrell, please try and keep your discourse educational and school friendly please!” Joffrey turns back around, his hands clenched into fists. Margaery looks perfectly composed, “I’m sorry Mr. Varys, I’ll try to stay on topic.” she reassures him, brushing her honey colored hair away from her eyes. “I’d appreciate that, Miss Tyrell.” Varys sighs, “Anyway, back to Dorne. Does anyone know when Dorne did finally become a part of Westeros?”  
The rest of class goes on normally, but Sansa can’t help sneaking glances at Margaery and Joffrey. Joffrey had seemed so confident and friendly before, how had Margaery been able to make him lose it like that? And with her friends, Margaery had looked so sweet and relaxed, Sansa didn’t see why she seemed to hate Joffrey so much. When Varys dismisses them, Joffrey walks next to her. He leans over and takes her schedule from her, “Hey, looks like we have math together, want me to walk you to class?” the previous anger has completely vanished from his face, “Sure,” Sansa smiles back at him as they walk out of the classroom. The halls are loud and overflowing with people pushing and shoving past each other. When Joffrey puts an arm protectively around her mumbling, “Can’t having you getting trampled, now can we?” Sansa has to duck her head down so he can’t see how red her face is turning.  
“Looks like here’s where I’ll have to leave you.” Joffrey hands Sansa back her schedule, shrugging his shoulders. Sansa sighed. They’d spent most of the school day together, sharing most of the same classes, she’d miss sitting next to him in this one. Joffrey touches her shoulder, a smirk growing on his face, “And hey, maybe I can talk to the Dean, see if she can switch you to my class.”  
Sansa looked at him quizzically, “What are you talking about?”  
“Well, let’s just say that without my family, this school wouldn’t have the gym, the new auditorium, and the science wing we were just in”  
Sansa feels flustered, she doesn’t want the Dean to think she’s spoiled and demanding, not that she thinks Joffrey is any of those things, the whole idea just makes her uneasy. She wraps a strand of hair around her finger, “Y-you don’t have to do that.” Joffrey’s eyes soften, “I just like spending time with you, Sansa. But I won’t talk to the Dean if it makes you uncomfortable.” Sansa inwardly cringes. He’s just trying to be nice, and now she’s made it weird. Joffrey looks down at his phone, “Well, class is about to start.” he gives her a quick smile, “Try not to miss me too much.” and strides away. He looks back at her once, and Sansa can see his mouth curling up at the edges.  
She walks into Intro to Art, her last class of the day, and finds a seat near the middle of the room; even though she feels a million times more confident than she did walking into Kings Landing Prep this morning, Sansa doesn't want to be too conspicuous. She glances up at the door, and sees Elinor and her friend Margaery who’d fought with Joffrey, along with another girl with hair so blond it’s more like a silvery white. Sansa notices she has the same rose tattoo as the other two girls on the back of her hand. They all plop down in a row of seats at the back, the silver haired girl reaching into her black purse and pulling out a sketchbook. Elinor’s looking around the classroom, when she makes eye contact with Sansa, “Hey!” she gives her a friendly wave. “How’s your first day going?”  
Sansa turns around in her chair so she can see Elinor better, “Pretty good, I guess.” she considers bringing up Joffrey, but stops herself quickly when she remembers how Margaery acted towards him. Elinor waves her over, “Come sit with us!” she pats the seat next her. Sansa grabs her bag and and sets it down on the desk next to Elinor, who motions over to the other girls, “That’s Margaery, and the fucking art nerd over there is Daenerys.” Daenerys looks up from her sketchbook, tossing a piece of charcoal at Elinor, “Shut up, E!” it hits her straight in the nose, leaving a dusty black mark there. Elinor gasps with surprise and laughter, “Dany, you bitch!”, and fake lunges at Dany. Margaery reaches over, pretending to hold her back. She gives Sansa an apologetic look, “Sorry my friends are acting like middle school boys right now. You just moved here from...Dorne, right?”  
Sansa looked at her, stunned, “Um no I-” Margaery giggles at Sansa’s expression,  
“I’m just kidding, don’t worry. No offense, but you’re a bit too pale to be Dornish, it’s a bit obvious you’re from Winterfell.”  
Now Sansa’s laughing too, “A bit too pale? Margaery, I’m practically a glass of milk!” Margaery snickers at the comparison. She gives Sansa a sweet smile, “But a very pretty glass of milk at that.” Sansa feels her cheeks burn slightly at the compliment. The door opens, and a tall woman with hair even redder than Sansa’s walks in. The scent of smoke follows her, and her fingers are smudged with ash. Margaery nudges her, “That’s Melisandre, the art teacher. The Dean’s tried to fire her dozens of times because everyone knows she’s a pyromaniac, but no one can find real evidence to prove it.”  
“Really?” Sansa looks at Melisandre more carefully. She doesn’t look like a pyromaniac, but then again, Sansa has no idea what a pyromaniac would look like. Margaery leans closer to her, and Sansa catches the scent of roses, “Another reason she’ll probably never get fired is because we all know she’s sleeping with the Head of Admissions.” Melisandre, steps out from behind her desk. “Welcome, everyone. In this class, we’ll be studying a variety of art media. The first quarter, we’ll do drawing with pencils and charcoal, the second, painting with watercolors and oils, the third, welding and glassblowing” Sansa looks over and sees Daenerys grinning at this, “And the fourth, sculpting and mixed media pieces.” Melisandre reaches into her bag and pulls out an apple, a candle holder, a box of matches, Margaery pokes her whispering, “See?”, and a scarf. She arranges them neatly on her desk. “I want to start today by getting right into drawing. If you didn’t bring your own sketchbook and charcoal, I’ll pass some out, and you’ll be keeping them for the rest of the year. I want to try and draw what you see, not just what you expect to see. I’ll be coming around if any of you need help.”  
Daenerys is the only one in the class who brought her own sketchbook, earning her a curious smile from Melisandre. She draws quickly, with bold charcoal strokes that take over the entire page. She looks completely absorbed in her work, not caring about the black smudges already all over her hands, making her rose tattoo look more grey than red. Sansa looks at the rose curiously, “So why do you guys all have the same tattoo?” Elinor, Daenerys, and Margaery all look at her, surprised at first, and then laugh. “Well,” Margaery replies, a lazy smile on her face, “We’re all just really good friends.” she looks over at the other two girls, the smirk widening, “Right, girls?” Elinor and Daenerys nod, “Best friends.” their smiles match Margaery’s. Sansa knows there’s something they’re not letting on, the way they’re all smirking at each other, but she doesn’t want to pry.  
She shrugs and looks at the arrangement of objects at the front of the room. She wishes it was the second quarter already so she could paint with watercolors. Sansa thinks back to the harsh weather of Winterfell, and how when the snow was too heavy to even open the door, she’d sit curled in a blanket and paint what she saw out the window. It was hard at first, trying to capture the vast powder whiteness of the snow on the already white paper, but overtime she grew to love it. She loved the calm trance painting put her in, and the way the colors swirled around (almost reminiscent of the northern lights) in the cup of water she used when she needed to clean her brush. Sansa picks her pencil back up, trying to clear her head of Winterfell for now. She hasn't been in Kings Landing long enough to start getting homesick. She focuses on the candle holder first, drawing lightly with her pencil to capture its basic shape. She starts shading, paying attention to where the light hits the object, and can feel herself falling into the trance-like concentration painting used to put her in, and she’s lost in her work until the period ends, and Melisandre tells them to pack up.  
Sansa quickly stuffs her charcoals back into their box, knocking a few onto the floor in her hurry. “Crap!” she mutters under her breath, leaning down retrieve them, but Margaery beats her to it, “Don’t worry, I got it.” she smiles sweetly at Sansa, dropping the pieces of charcoal into the box. They walk out of the class together, stopping at Sansa’s locker so she can pick up the textbook she needs to bring home. Margaery’s phone buzzes loudly, and when she pulls it out of her pocket, she rolls her eyes, exasperated, “Shit!” she brushes her honey colored hair out of her eyes and looks apologetically at Sansa, “I’ve gotta run, I have to meet with someone who lives practically across town in five minutes, I’m gonna be so late!” She gives Sansa a quick last smile, and waves, “See you around!” Margaery rushes off, her long hair swinging back and forth. Sansa watches her go. She wishes she could walk with that much assurance; her brother, Robb always tells her that she moves like she’s expecting to get shot at any moment. She’s about to close her locker, when a hand touches her shoulder.  
Joffrey smiles down at her, his hand still there, slightly rubbing her shoulder, “Hey, Sansa.” She smiles back at him, trying not to let on that the sensation of him touching her makes her feel like there are fireworks in her veins. “Hi, did you survive the last class without me?” He shrugs, “Just barely.” his face turns more serious, “Hey, were you walking out of class with Margaery Tyrell?”  
Sansa’s stomach twinges with guilt she’s not sure why she’s feeling, “Yeah, she was really sweet. But you don’t like her that much, do you? Can I ask why?”  
Joffrey cringes, “Honestly, Sansa I’d stay away from her if I were you. She seems sweet at first, but she’s incredibly manipulative. She just charms people into doing what she wants, and it always gets them in trouble in the end.” he sighs, moving closer to Sansa, “I mean, if you like her, you can hang out with her, but I’d just hate for someone as sweet as you to get hurt.”  
Sansa takes a deep breath, “Well, you know her better than I do I guess.” She’s torn, Joffrey seems so sweet, trying to look out for her, but from the class period she spent with Margaery, Sansa can’t imagine her acting the way he described. But Joffrey’s adorable (and slightly triumphant) smile puts those thoughts out of her mind for a least a little while.


	2. October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa goes to Joffrey's football game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok first of all, I'm so sorry I haven't posted Chapter 2 sooner, my laptop broke, and I'm not getting a new one anytime soon, so I haven't had as much computer access as I normally do. Not to mention I've had major writers block. But ANYWAY yay Chapter 2 is finally up! There isn't very much Margaery in this chapter, because I'm still developing Joffrey and Sansa's relationship, but I promise there will be more of her soon. Also, I made a fanmix for this fic, and if you want to listen to it, here's the link: https://8tracks.com/gothfathur/she-s-electric
> 
> Hope you like it!

“I wish I could come,” Sansa sighs, adjusting the shoulder strap on her bag and trying her hardest not to look at Joffrey; she knows the second their eyes meet, any resolve she’s made not to go will crumble into smithereens “But I’m slammed with homework tonight. I need to get going on my outline for the Dornish government paper we have, plus I’ve barely even started studying for the math test that’s coming up.” 

Joffrey bumps his shoulder lightly against hers, “You can do your homework on the bleachers, with an amazing football game as a soundtrack.” he leans a bit closer to her, his crystal blue eyes crinkling up at the edges as he smiles at Sansa, “And, having you at the game would probably make me play better.” Sansa groans inwardly. That does it. Seeing him in front of her looking so sweet and hopeful not only breaks her resolve, it shatters it into a million pieces. She lets out a huge sigh, smiling at Joffrey so he knows she's kidding, "Okayyyy I'll go if it means that much to you." 

Joffrey grins triumphantly, "I knew I could win you over. See you at the game, good luck charm." He gives her a quick wave and walks off, leaving Sansa grinning and blushing to the point where she almost forgets how much homework time she's about to lose. 

For the month she's been at King's Landing Prep, Sansa's barely been able to keep Joffrey out of her mind. And it's not like all the times back in Winterfell when she and her friend Jeyne had whispered and giggled at the older boys who'd stop in town for a few nights before going back to the nearby military base. This is something real and two-sided; they talk in almost every class and in the halls, Joffrey always blocking her from the flow of people on their way to class, just like he did on the first day of school. And he always seems to go out of his way to touch her, his fingers lightly brushing hers while they walk, his shoulders gently bumping against her own. 

Sansa has always been an idealist, especially when it comes to people and relationships. She's lost count of all the times her sister, Arya has said Sansa has “Put her on a goddamn pedestal” and expected too much from her. And since she was young, she’s wanted to be in love. Some of her earliest memories are sitting in front of the tv with her brothers and sister, begging them to watch Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella with her again, wanting to see the exact moment the princesses met their princes so she could know exactly what it felt like. It’s stupid, but the image of meeting a tall boy with blue eyes and a perfect smile and just knowing he’s the one for her has never really left her head all the years. It stays in the back of her mind, insistent and stubborn perfectperfectperfectperfect. That’s why she likes Joffrey so much. She doesn’t want to read into it too much, but every interaction she’s had with him seems like something straight out of the scenarios in her head. Just glancing at him makes her cheeks heat up and her heart flutter in her chest, and most of all, gives her this overwhelming desire to show him that she can be as perfect as he is. She wants him to be as blown away by her as she is by him. 

Sansa wraps her arms around herself as the fall wind cuts across her cheeks, wishing she was wearing a jacket, instead of a light cardigan. She didn’t realize that though it's no Winterfell, October nights in Kings Landings are far from warm. And this crazy wind isn’t helping in the slightest, rustling her papers, and whipping her long hair across her face. She quickly ties it up in a messy ponytail; she’s seen the effect of wind on her hair before and it isn’t pretty. Sansa sighs, hunching over a bit to block herself and her homework from the wind. The football game starts in 10 minutes, and she knows she’ll be too caught up in watching Joffrey to get anything done once he’s out on the field, so she should try to get as much as she can done now. She takes out her pen and starts working on her math worksheet, doing her best to ignore the weather. Loud laughter shatters her concentration. She grips her pen hard, knuckles turning white, annoyed at whoever the source of the laughter is. Sansa looks up from her worksheet and scans the bleachers and the field. 

Clambering out from behind the bleachers are Margaery, Elinor, Daenerys, and two girls she doesn’t recognize, all roaring with laughter. “Who does he think we are?” Daenerys exclaims, rolling her eyes as she laughs. Margaery giggles, wrapping an arm around Daenerys’s shoulder, “He must think we’re all idiots, to think we’d ever do anything like that.” she shakes her head, her perfectly curled hair swishing around her shoulders, “God, I hate amateurs.” The other girls all nod their heads in response, starting to laugh again, and they walk away, out of Sansa’s earshot. 

Before Sansa can even begin to wonder what she just heard, more and more people start piling into their seats, and the football players run out onto the field. Sansa cheers along with everyone else as the game starts. She leans forward, trying to see if she can spot Joffrey, but the players move too fast, and with their matching jerseys, everyone looks the same anyway. Sansa probably should’ve mentioned to Joffrey how little she knows (or cares) about football, but he looked so sweet and excited to have her watch him play she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. She smirks in spite of herself, imagining her brother Robb rolling his eyes at her, “You’d go to a football game for some dumb boy after all the times you’ve refused to even go to your own brother’s practices?” She reaches into her backpack, trying to pull out her homework again and almost elbows the person sitting next to her. “Watch it!” the boy to her right snaps, giving her an annoyed glare. “Sorry!” she stammers, moving away from her backpack. She crosses her legs, trying to take up as little space as possible, and resigns herself to focus on the game, and only the game. 

The game continues in earnest, catching a bit more of her attention when she sees how close the score is, King’s Landing Prep only down by one point. A player on the opposing team gets tackled on the field, and a group of kids near her burst into loud snickers, reminding her of the ones she heard earlier. Sansa’s mind wanders back to Margaery and the rest of her friends. They had looked so free and exultant (and like they were having a lot more fun than she was), so caught up in their bright moment of laughter that everything else was irrelevant. And that isn’t unusual for them. Go anywhere around King’s Landing Prep and you’ll hear them: Elinor’s loud laughter, and Margaery and Daenerys’s quick sarcastic jabs that caused it. It sounds cliche, but they’re the girls that everyone watches with a sort of hypnotized awe, the girls that could probably get away with murder if they tried it. And it’s not like they’re mean or anything either, they’re just so immersed in their own world that has a population of about five that they give off an overall vibe of detachment, that somehow makes people want to get closer to them, to be invited into that world. That dazzling, almost dangerous world of sly grins, dusky rose scented perfume, and perfectly polished, ring studded fingers being raised to glossy pink lips with a quiet shhhh… 

The loud yells of everyone around her pull Sansa out of her thoughts. She hastily stands up with everyone else and scans the field and scoreboard, and starts clapping excitedly when she realizes they just won. “Did you see Joffrey’s pass, he fucking nailed it!” Sansa listens to the chatter around her, smiling to herself when most of it is about Joffrey. She makes her way down the bleacher steps with everyone else, cursing herself for spacing out during Joffrey’s pass. She sees him before she’s climbed all the way down the bleachers, and she has to catch her breath. Joffrey looks so triumphant, his hair messier than usual, and with a huge grin that takes over his entire face as he stands with his teammates. He leans his head back, shaking his hair out of his eyes when they make eye contact. “Sansa!” he calls excitedly, “C’mere!” Sansa’s heart flutters to the point that it feels like it’s buzzing as she bounds down the stairs. “You were amazing, Joff!” she exclaims when she gets to him. He shrugs, smiling down at her, 

“I’m glad you liked the game. You were my good luck charm, after all.” One of Joffrey’s teammates claps him on the shoulder, 

“Bro, you coming? Team victory dinner, remember?” Joffrey turns to him, shaking his head, “Sorry man, I’m taking Sansa out, she’s never had dinner with a champion before.” Sansa’s heart stops. She’s surprised she’s still even breathing. He’s taking her out? He’s ditching his football time that just won a game thanks to him to take her out? His friend looks her up and down, giving Joffrey a smirk, “You better show her what it’s like then.” he gives Joffrey a friendly shove, and disappears with the rest of their team. Joffrey focuses back on Sansa, a small smile forming on her face when he sees how flustered she looks. “I’ve just gotta go take a quick shower in the locker room, ok? Then I’m all yours.” 

Sansa smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Can’t wait.” 

Heart pounding, Sansa sprints to the bathroom, pulling her makeup bag out of her backpack. As she reapplies her mascara and lipgloss, she takes three long deep breaths, trying to relax. She's wanted to go out with Joffrey practically ever since she met him, she needs to stay cool. "Be strong," she reminds herself, "you're a Stark; your ancestors survived one of the harshest winters ever recorded, and they tamed wolves to keep as pets, you can manage a date.” her father loves to remind her and her siblings of their family history when any of them are nervous or reluctant to do something, and as much as she rolls her eyes when her father starts to bring it up, the habit has rubbed off on her. She takes one last glance in the mirror, thank god she decided to tie her hair up during the game or it’d be in a much worse state than it is now. She gives her reflection a shy smile. All in all, she looks pretty good; her long auburn hair hangs in loose waves around her face, and the harsh wind has turned her cheeks a light pink. Sansa’s checking her mascara one more time, making sure she it’s clump-free when her phone buzzes in her pocket. She takes it out, grinning when she sees the text is from Joffrey: 

\--Meet me outside ;)? 

She types out a quick response before walking out of the bathroom and back towards the football field, smiling nervously to herself. 

Joffrey smiles as Sansa walks up to him. His hair is slightly wet from the showers, and he’s changed into a white button down shirt and black pants. “Ready to go?” she nods excitedly. They walk towards his car, and he opens the door for her (of course he does). 

“So, where are we going for dinner?” she asks. 

“Well, there’s this really good place downtown that has a bit of everything. It has some great Dornish dishes, and the desserts are amazing.” 

“Sounds good.” When they get to the restaurant, Sansa’s inwardly cursing herself for not dressing fancier. Her cardigan and pink floral dress are nice enough, but everyone she’s seen walking in are dressed head to toe is designer brands. “Sorry I’m not that dressed up.” she mumbles self consciously. Joffrey looks her up and down and shrugs, 

“I think you look great.” They walk up the front desk, where a well dressed man with a mustache is looking over the list of reservations. He smiles when they approach, “Joffrey, I haven’t seen you here in a while.” he looks over at Sansa, “And who’s this beauty with you?” 

“Nice to see you too, Petyr. Sansa, this is Petyr Baelish, he owns this place, and is a family friend. Petyr, this is Sansa Stark. She moved here about a month ago from Winterfell.” 

Petyr’s eyes widen, “Sansa Stark. I know your mother, Catelyn. We went to school together when we were young, we were quite close back then.” Sansa’s never heard her mother mention anyone named Petyr, but she smiles at him anyway, 

“Yes, I’ve heard her talk about you before, what a coincidence.” 

“I didn’t know all of you were here in King’s Landing, I’ll have to invite you to dinner sometime. But, enough small talk, let me show you to your table.” Petyr gets up from his seat and walks them through the restaurant to a small table in the back. It’s slightly away from the other tables, with a much quieter atmosphere. They sit down, and look at their menus, Sansa’s eyes widening at the price of some of the dishes there. Her and Joffrey talk while they wait for their food, their conversation flowing easily. That’s one of the things she likes about him, how easy it is to talk to him. “So, why did you choose to take me out, instead of going out with your team?” she asks. Joffrey smiles quizzically at her, 

“I can go out with them anytime. I wanted to do something different. And, I wanted to hang out with you in a setting that didn’t have a bunch of people screaming about football.” Sansa tries to fight back her blush (is it even possible to physically stop yourself from blushing?) and smiles at him, 

“Well, I’m glad you did. This is really nice.” Joffrey looks at her, and opens his mouth like he’s about to say something else, but their food arrives, interrupting him. She looks at her plate excitedly. Her food looks fancier than what she normally eats, the fish in her salad is freshly caught from Valantis, and her soup has the most expensive list of ingredients that she’s ever seen. And it tastes amazing, perfectly spicy and rich. This whole experience is exactly what she’d secretly hoped King’s Landing would be like, eating an extravagant dinner in an insanely fancy restaurant with a beautiful boy smiling at her between bites of food. She wants to express how she’s feeling to Joffrey, but at the same time doesn’t want to break the perfect bubble of happiness she’s feeling right now. 

After they’ve finished their desserts, which unfortunately weren’t lemon cakes (Sansa’s favorite), but still were delicious, they walk outside together, enjoying the view of all the stores lit up at night. “Sansa,” Joffrey turns to her, a shy smile on his face, “There’s something I want to ask you.” 

Sansa looks at him quizzically, “Sure, what is it?” 

“Well, I wanted to tell you that when I asked you to have dinner with me, I meant it like a date.” Sansa’s heart is in her throat, and she’s sure her face is probably twenty different shades of crimson, 

“Y-you did?” 

Joffrey nods, “Yeah. I’ve liked you for kind of a while, actually.” 

Sansa grins, and then puts her hand to her mouth, embarrassed, “I’ve liked you for kind of a while too…” Joffrey smiles, looking more confident, and takes her hand in his, intertwining their fingers, 

“That’s a good thing then, because I wanted to ask you if you would be my girlfriend?” Sansa gasps in surprise, her heart pounding in excitement, hardly believing it. 

She nods excitedly, “Yes, Joffrey. I’d love to be your girlfriend.” He steps closer to her, leaning forward slightly. Sansa can feel her heart hammering in her ears as she moves closer to him. He puts his hand on the back of her neck as he closes the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers. And it feels...right. As she kisses him back, she smiles, feeling like everything is exactly how it’s supposed to be in this moment. The constant hammering worry inside of her that she’ll never be perfect Sansa with her perfect boyfriend is melting away as his lips move against hers. She knows it’s irrational, but she’s always had the idea that your first kiss predicts how the rest of your love life is going to go, so kissing has always excited and scared her to the point where she tried to avoid boys for a while, so determined for her first kiss to be perfect. And now it’s happening, and is as close to perfect as she could have imagined, Sansa can hardly believe it. Joffrey wraps his other hand around her waist, pulling her closer to him, and she loses herself in the feeling of his lips on hers.


	3. AUTHORS NOTE

So I am aware that I haven't touched this fic in a while, and at first that was mainly because of what happened to Sansa in season 5. This fic was going to involve her being abused by Joffrey, and after what she went through this season I didn't want to write about her being hurt at all. Also the plot was giving me hell, and I had no idea how I was going to wrap this up. BUT THEN TODAY SOMETHING ELSE HAPPENED. I watched the music for the song Girls Like Girls by Hayley Kiyoko (if you haven't seen it I highly recommend it), and it gave me an entirely new way that I wanted to write this fic so basically I'm going to rewrite it (some parts will still be staying the same; IT'S STILL A GIRL GANG FIC AND IT'S STILL A SANSA/MARGAERY FIC) but the plot is going to go in a very different (and in my opinion, better) direction. Also it's finally summer so I will have time to work on this more and so the edited first chapter should hopefully come out soon!


End file.
